


Stormy Nights Make the Best Hot Chocolate

by FogDog1738



Series: Teen Wolf Fluffuary 2021 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cook Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Has a Crush on Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffuary, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, POV Stiles Stilinski, Panic Attacks, Some depictions of violence, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Stiles Stilinski Has a Crush on Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Storms, Tumblr Prompt, maybe smut later, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:20:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FogDog1738/pseuds/FogDog1738
Summary: Stiles gets anxiety from a storm during the night and Derek comes to check on him. Things are worse than they both wanted them to be, but eventually turn into a night of mutually coming out.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf Fluffuary 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139534
Comments: 12
Kudos: 120
Collections: Fluffuary 2021





	Stormy Nights Make the Best Hot Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> Today's Prompt (2/03): Storms

A loud crack of thunder woke Stiles from his slumber. Rain was pounding heavily on the roof of his house, splashing on his window. The noise would be deafening if he was outside. 

However, even though he was inside, that didn’t calm his anxiety. During the day, storms weren’t so bad, but at night, it reminded him of those long nights sleeping at home while his mom was in the hospital. Those nights when the thunder shook the house and lightning lit up the room like it was daytime. Those nights when his mom was in the hospital and his dad was swamped with work. Those nights alone, laying in his bed alone with no one to help calm his fear.

He buried himself in the soft blankets, pulling them over his head and twisting his body around so he faced the wall. At least there, not facing the window and the rest of his room, the lightning would make only slightly less of an impact on his anxiety. However, the thunderous claps that rang through the skies and seemingly echoed through his bedroom still shook him to the core. His solution was to stuff his head under his pillow, despite being uncomfortable at how his head angled toward the mattress while laying sideways. 

The rain continued hammering on his window. Achieving any state of sleepiness was as good as void. Many thoughts ran through Stiles’ head. How his mother wasn’t here with him, his father fighting crime in the downpour. Either of them could’ve been gone in minutes, and Stiles would be there in his bed, oblivious as to what happened. He didn’t know how he got through these nights as a kid, because right now it was unbearable. 

His arm lifted up and over the pillow, pushing it down onto his head more to drown out the noise. The air in his lungs seemed to dissipate, his breathing becoming more intense as time went on. 

_ Fucking breathe, Stiles. It’s not that fucking hard! _

More thoughts zoomed around his skull. His mom was gone, so he only had his dad left. Once again, he was out tonight on night shift. If Stiles lost him, he didn’t know what he would do. All he could imagine was his father getting shot through the chest by some random idiot on the street he was chasing. He imagined his father falling backwards onto the pavement with a thud, blood pooling beneath him. His breathing slowly leaving him until he died, the rain pounding on top of him. Of course, in true nightmare style, his cold, dead eyes would still be open.

Barely being able to breathe, tears started to fall from Stiles’ eyes, soaking the bed sheets below him. His lungs started to burn as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

_ This isn’t fucking happening right now! _

As Stiles’ panic grew stronger and stronger, the sound outside seemed to skyrocket to astronomical levels. He could almost feel the wind blowing around him and the rain hitting his blankets atop his body. But after a few seconds, the sound softened again. Stiles’ opened his eyes and jerked up, throwing the pillow back down onto the bed and turning to face the remaining part of the room. 

A figure stood in the middle of his room, looming over him. Stiles’ panic took over and he immediately lept towards his bat in the corner of the room closest to him. The figure spoke, but Stiles was too overcome with worry and adrenaline that he didn’t hear what they said. Instead, he gripped the bat and swung it out wildly behind him. 

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” He yelled.

The figure grabbed the bat as it swung towards him, pulling it out of his hands and tossing it behind him like it was nothing. Stiles stumbled forward at the pull. 

“Stiles, what the fuck?” The figure exclaimed. “It’s Derek!”

Stiles continued to push toward him, his hands smacking his chest. Derek was sent back a step but held his ground firmly. Stiles continued smacking at his chest with his hands, yelling incomprehensible threats toward the werewolf.

Derek catches his arms as they come swinging down on him, his hands firmly gripping the boys wrists but not too hard to harm him. Stiles struggles to leave his grip, panic still possessing his mind. 

“Stiles, it’s me, Derek! Calm the fuck down!” Derek growled.

“You can’t just come in here,” Stiles let out, “Don’t fucking touch me!” He started trailing off a bit as he slowly realized that the figure really was Derek. The man was Derek, not some dangerous supernatural creature coming to kill him. Jesus, how would his dad take the news that Stiles was dead?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Stiles barked out, tears streaming down his face, his heart practically bursting through his chest. “Derek, what the fuck?”

Derek pushes Stiles’ arms down out of fighting stance, moving his hands up his slightly toned arms and to his shoulders. He pushes him back carefully until the back of Stiles’ knees hit the bed and he collapses down into the sheets, Derek steadying him to a comfortable sitting position.

“Stiles, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Derek said through the heavy breathing and sobbing coming from Stiles.

Stiles shakes under Derek’s hands, desperately attempting to control his breathing. His hands were holding each other, squeezing one another tightly as he cried. Derek quickly releases Stiles and looks around the room frantically. Stiles slumps forward from the lack of touch and hits his fists against his forehead. 

Derek comes back, tugging at Stiles’ hands. He doesn’t understand what the werewolf was doing until he glanced up and saw his attempt to put a pen in between his hands. Stiles, still completely freaking out, takes the pen, and begins fidgeting with it. Derek looks at him with a pained expression. 

_ Jesus Christ, those eyes. _

Derek rests his hand on Stiles shoulder, looking at him head on. “Breathe Stiles. In and out.” Stiles lets one hand release the pen and instead grip the were’s wrist. His fingers can feel his pulse; the quick rise and fall of his veins calms him slightly.

“There we go. Just breathe, Stiles. You’re okay. It’s okay.” Derek soothes.

Stiles lets his head fall as his brain slowly reverts back to normal. His heart rate slows after a few minutes and the fire in his lungs fades as he takes deeper breaths. Derek continued to let him hold onto his wrist, which provided more comfort than Stiles was willing to admit. 

After a few minutes, Derek’s other hand touches Stiles’ chin and slowly pulls his head back up to face him again. “Are you okay?” The look in his eyes displayed pure concern for him, and Stiles almost couldn’t take it. 

When was Derek like this? When did Derek suddenly care this much? He never cared this much. He never showed Stiles this much concern. 

The only time he ever seemed to show much real emotion or fondness towards Stiles was when Boyd died. And the only reason Stiles held Derek’s shoulder was because he knew that pain. That pain of losing someone close to you, someone who meant something to you like no one else. He consciously made that movement to approach Derek that day, to comfort him.

But after that, Derek never acknowledged it and just continued to give Stiles his regular stoic facial expression, ignoring him until he needed him for something. It hurt Stiles a little, but he understood why.

Stiles was too hyperactive and anxious and emotional for Derek Hale. The man had a heavy past that pushed him to never speak of his problems and practically hate anyone younger than him; hell, even then, he still seemed to hate  _ everyone _ . Not only that, but Stiles was sure his sarcasm annoyed him, even if he did jab back at him. 

But Stiles felt differently. He had hoped that Derek would see that he mattered to someone, that he mattered to Stiles. Derek had saved him on many different occasions; Stiles the same. Their sarcastic banter and jokes towards each other, Stiles hoped, should have strengthened their relationship at least a little bit. Just a fraction of an inch?

But Derek showed and continues to show no interest, even if Stiles had started developing feelings for the man.

Until now. 

“What are you doing here, Derek?” Stiles asks plainly.

Derek looks down in defeat. “Well, I remembered you mentioned in passing one day that you didn’t like thunderstorms-”

Stiles cuts him off. “What?”

_He did what?_ _He fucking remembered something? That conversation was just random gibbering about how I didn’t sleep well. What the fuck? Why would he remember that?_

“Why did you remember  _ that _ of all things?” Stiles asks.

“Well, umm, you talked about having panic attacks as well and sleeping-”

“I’m sorry what? Derek, you don’t ever listen to me.” Stiles tells him.

“Stiles, listen.” Derek tries.

“No, umm, what?” Stiles lets out a small laugh. “You’re Derek Hale; you don’t listen. Do you? Do you listen? Jesus Christ, I rant too often for you to listen. How much do you remember? Have I told you anything embarrassing? Fuck.” Stiles rambles.

“Stiles, shut up!” Derek spits.

Stiles’ thoughts halt, and so does his mouth. Derek looks at him with confusion plastered on his face. 

“Of course I listen,” he assures Stiles, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Stiles quickly jerks his head back a little, pulling Derek’s hand off his shoulder. “Why  _ would _ you? I’m a hot mess all the time and I’m not like you or Scott or anyone else. Just the poor, defenseless human who can’t keep anyone safe.” His previous thoughts start to sink back in again. He couldn’t save his dad if something happened, he couldn’t save Scott.

_ I can’t save Derek… _

“Stiles, stop worrying,” Derek tells him, glancing down at Stiles’ chest. His heart rate started to rise again and the werewolf knew it, so he slowly took another deep breath to calm it.

Derek continues. “You’re not defenseless, as we’ve seen just now, and I know you would do anything to keep all of us safe. I know it’s hard, but you’d find a way. You’re smarter than most of the people in this group.” Derek smiles a weak smile at him that sends Stiles spiralling into his own thoughts.

But before he could get very far, his brain jumped onto a different wavelength. He noticed the wet spot on his shoulder, and the few drops on his pants. His hands were wet too.

_ Jesus Christ he climbed in through my window! _

Stiles freaks. “Derek, you didn’t just climb through my fucking window!” He yells out, looking at the rest of Derek’s heavily muscled body. He was wearing his leather jacket with a maroon shirt underneath. The shirt was soaked despite having slight shelter from his jacket. His pants were soaked and his entire body was dripping onto Stiles’ carpet. “Jesus, Derek! Go to the bathroom!” Stiles orders, pointing towards his door and jerking up to his feet.

Derek shakes his head as Stiles goes to push him again. This time, however, he isn’t a brick wall, and Derek starts toward the door. Stiles almost falls from the weight moving from under his hands. 

It’s also at this moment that Stiles remembers a storm is raging outside the house. He jumps at a sudden, higher-pitched clap of thunder. Derek turns and touches his forearm in reassurance. 

“It’s fine. We’re inside,” he soothes, “And I don’t have anything else to wear.”

Stiles turns back to him and shakes his head. “Should’ve thought about that before just running through a fucking storm to climb through my window.”

“Wasn’t on the top of my priority list to be honest.”

Stiles goes to his dresser and shuffles through his clothes, picking out a pair of slightly oversized jeans to give to the werewolf. They were about the same size, so it should work fine. He slides his closet door open, looking through his shirts and snatching a, once again slightly oversized, white t-shirt. He throws them to Derek, who catches them effortlessly.

“If you need socks, I have some. But I have no underwear for you, bud,” Stiles states.

Derek looks down at the clothes. “This’ll be fine. Thanks.” He steps out of the room, Stiles trailing behind. He points him to the bathroom and closes the door as Derek steps in. He leans up against the door, letting his head slowly fall back to rest on the wood of the door. 

Stiles remembered something. “What do you mean ‘it wasn’t on the top of my priority list’?” He questions through the door. 

Silence is what he receives, but only for a few seconds. “Like you said, you didn’t like storms. I was keeping up with the weather and tonight is supposed to be a bad one.” 

“Oh, so I’m some damsel in distress now?” 

“No, but heavy wind can ruin any building if you add a tree into the equation.”

“Exactly, so why come to me? Wouldn’t it be safer for you in your loft?” Stiles’ eyebrows furrow as he continues to think.

“Yeah, but I’m not worried about myself.”

Stiles tilts his head at that answer. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Derek wasn’t all about himself constantly. Maybe they did have something there, even if it’s just a friendship.

“So why me? You’re worried about me? Just cause I don’t like storms doesn’t mean I can’t handle them.”

“Right, cause you had that all handled, right?” Derek’s voice starts to get a little more snarky.

“Listen, I don’t need you lecturing me on how well I handle things. At least I can actually express myself, unlike some werewolves I know.” Immediately after spitting that back to Derek, Stiles regrets his life choices. 

“Stiles…” Derek trails off.

He stands there, leaning against the door, for a little while longer. Suddenly, Derek opens the door and Stiles stumbles backwards. Derek catches him easily, pushing him back to a steady stance. 

Stiles turns back toward him. “Hey, that was not fair, man. What I said? Totally isn’t fair to judge you like that.”

Derek shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he answers, lowering his head.

Stiles looks at him in confusion. “It shouldn’t be…”

That makes Derek jerk his head up. “Yeah.”

They stand there in silence for a moment, Stiles noticing Derek’s beautiful, ocean blue eyes. He could drown in those and be totally fine with it. He also noticed his stubble, his messy hair--which he had to have dried with one of the used towels--and lips curling on the edges into a slight smile. Jesus, Derek was a piece of art, and Stiles felt bad for letting himself feel anything more than just friendship.

Stiles didn’t know what to say. “You want coffee or something?”

Derek’s eyes widen and he points an accusatory finger at him. “No!”

“Listen, I could go for some caffeine right now, man.”

“Yeah, but you also have to sleep, idiot.” 

Stiles shook his head. “That’s not happening anytime soon, as you have experienced.”

Lightning flashes through the doorway of Stiles’ room and they both notice, waiting for the loud cry of thunder that shortly follows. 

Derek turns back to Stiles. “You have hot chocolate?”

Stiles runs through his memory of the pantry downstairs. He didn’t think they did. “Maybe? We can check,” he answers, already walking towards the stairs. Derek follows.

Stiles fumbles around to find the light switches to the hallway and the kitchen, cursing Derek in his mind for not helping him. They eventually reach the kitchen and Stiles quickly moves to open the pantry, immediately looking toward the shelf the hot chocolate would be on. He slips the box off the shelf, reaching out to show it to Derek.

He shakes his head quickly. “No, not that crap.”

“Excuse me, this is high quality, box hot chocolate! It should work fine!” 

“You got any cocoa powder, sugar, salt, and milk? Also a pot?” Derek asks, matter-of-factly.

Stiles stares at him in aw. Derek was genuinely going to make him hot chocolate. “Umm, yeah man. Go for it!” He motions out towards the kitchen, looking back to the shelf for the cocoa powder. 

Once finding the small box, he tosses it on the counter next to Derek, who is pouring milk into a large pot. After starting the burner, he begins mixing the dry ingredients in a bowl. He stirs it with a whisk that he found in the drawer and then sits back to wait for the milk to heat up.

He leans against the table, where Stiles made himself comfortable in a chair.

“Didn’t know you knew how to make hot chocolate. You cook anything else? Wait, are you even allowed to have chocolate? Is that thing, for werewolves? Chocolate poisoning?” Stiles rambles on.

“Stiles, I make this all the time. Used to do it with Laura in New York before we came back...here.” His face makes a pained look. 

Stiles immediately knows where this is going. “Hey, what about like pancakes or something?”

Derek’s face goes back to normal. “Um, yeah?”

Stiles face lights up. “Okay, good! You can stay here tonight and make pancakes in the morning!”

Derek lets out a cute huff that makes Stiles grin more. Shaking his head, he turns back to the milk pot. “You know what, why not?” 

Stiles thrusts a fist up into the air. 

_ Werewolf pancakes! Fuck yes! _

Derek finishes waiting for the milk to boil before adding the dry mixture, whisking it into the liquid slowly. After dumping it all in the pot, he continues to whisk until the hot chocolate is smooth and perfectly browned. 

Stiles jumps up and yanks out a ladle which he immediately hands to Derek. After, he takes out some mugs and Derek fills them to the brim. 

“You like whipped cream? We always have that shit.” Stiles makes a face of excitement as Derek nods. He whips out the cream from the fridge door and swirls some into both of the mugs. The counter stays cluttered as they sit and relax on opposite sides of the kitchen table.

Stiles sips the hot chocolate, the liquid burning his tongue and throat slightly as he quickly swallows it. He really needs to be careful with these things.

Derek talks first. “Listen, about earlier. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, next time just call me or something.”

“I-I, um. Listen, I worry about you and your panic attacks, Stiles. I want you to know that, even though I look like I don’t care, I do. I  _ really _ do. Sometimes it’s difficult to even comprehend that I…” He trails off.

“Derek,” Stiles swallows a lump in his throat, “What do you mean?”

Derek looks down again, giving the table that look of shame that Stiles knows means he’s not handling something well. 

“Derek?”

“Stiles, I think I love you.”

Stiles almost drops his mug with a sudden jerk of his arm. A little bit of the drink splashes over the edge and burns into Stiles’ hand. He sets the cup down quickly and throws back his chair as he runs to get his hand under some cold water from the sink. The coolness relieves the pain quickly, and Stiles lets out a deep breath. 

When Stiles looks back, Derek is there behind him, concern plastered across his face. His hands are ready to hold onto Stiles’ arm and lean over him to make sure his hand is okay, but they stay floating in the air, shaking slightly.

None of them speak a word until Stiles turns off the faucet and dries the water off his hand. 

“Derek,” Stiles starts, “You what now?” His eyes show pure and utter longing for Derek to just talk about how he feels.

Because if there is any chance Derek feels the same as Stiles does, then this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“I think I love you, Stiles.” He reluctantly lets out again.

Stiles’ gaze falls to the floor. “Wow, um, okay,” he softly replies.

They stand there for a moment in silence, the awkwardness filling up inside Stiles.

_ Just fucking say it back, Jesus Christ! _

“I think I should go,” Derek’s voice cuts through the silence. He turns on his heel to move, but Stiles throws his hand out to grab his arm.

“I do too!” Stiles blurts out. No exactly how he wanted that to come out, but it’s straight to the point.

Derek turns at his touch and looks at him with an amazingly confused look. Stiles knew Derek couldn’t believe what he just heard, and it only made him want to kiss him right then and there.

“You do?” His voice is almost at a whisper.

“Um, yeah? I kind of thought I was obvious, but I guess not.” 

Derek’s eyebrows raise and he smiles and lets out a deep breath that looks as if it relieved him of all tension in his body. Stiles notices his hands start to shake more.

“Derek, what’s that about?” Stiles points out his hands.

The werewolf inspects them carefully, his eyebrows furrowing for a second before releasing again. He looks up to Stiles suddenly, his eyes wide. Those beautiful, wide eyes that Stiles is going to stare into for a moment too long.

Derek’s breath starts to get heavy before he inches forward and puts his hands on Stiles neck. Stiles can feel them shaking on his skin, but they are warm and soft to the touch. Derek leans his head forward, reaching Stiles’ forehead and resting on it.

Stiles leans into the touch, grabbing Derek’s wrists carefully. “This is okay,” he quietly says.

Derek closes his eyes and lets out another deep huff. Their noses touch, and Stiles can’t wait any longer before lifting his face up to kiss him. 

It’s soft and quaint at first, just their lips pressing into each other’s. Stiles tightens his grip on Derek’s wrist until he pushes his hands to the back of Stiles’ neck more. Stiles lets go then, allowing his hands to make their way to Derek’s chest, which is perfectly framed by Stiles’ old shirt. They slowly grip into the fabric, not wanting to let go. 

Stiles is the first to let his tongue follow what it wants. It slowly slips between Derek’s lips and touches the end of Derek’s tongue. He tastes of the hot chocolate he was drinking, but also sweeter. How could it be sweeter?

Derek takes this as a sign and continues on with Stiles’ pace. It’s not a fighting match, but a mutual push and pull that make Derek moan softly.

Stiles barely pulls away, a centimeter of space between his lips and Derek’s. “That sound. That’s good. Jesus, Derek…” 

Derek pulls him in to kiss again. They both close their eyes and just let things flow for a moment before Derek stops. 

“Stiles.” His voice is full of want and desperation. “I’ve wanted this-- _ you _ \--for a long time.”

“Yeah, so do, um, me too.” Stiles can’t even bring himself to smile, his brain is just frozen at the sight of Derek clearly wanting  _ him _ . He never knew this day would come, much less this soon.

They rest their foreheads together again as Stiles moves his hands up Derek's chest, past his shoulders, and around his neck to run his fingers through Derek’s hair. Derek closes his eyes and lets out a small whine. 

“I love you.” He whispers, so quietly that Stiles can barely hear it. 

“I love you too.” Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and Derek quickly moves his arms around the boys waist to pick him up. “Where are you taking me?” Stiles laughs a bit.

“To bed. For things. Sex.  _ Anything _ . God, literally anything you want,” Derek answers, “But only if you’re okay with it.”

“Yes. Yes! I’m  _ so _ okay with that.” Stiles whispers into Derek’s ear. He feels the werewolf shutter at the contact of Stiles’ lips on his ear. “ _ Please _ .”

Derek wastes no time moving them up the stairs. Stiles lets himself be dragged along with him, maybe only cursing out the werewolf strength a little. But it doesn’t matter...

He’s never been more excited to do anything during a storm.  _ Ever _ .

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Fluffuary Challenge created by Unsettledink on Tumblr!
> 
> This was actually my favorite fic to write by far and I can see so much potential for this to be updated later. Oh my GOD, I'm so excited to be posting this! XD
> 
> Comments and shit give me life, so don't be afraid to send me your opinions! <3


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